AntiPleasure Dissertation
by xXLookAPandaXx
Summary: The irony of it all was strangling her, cutting off her oxygen. It took a bullet hole and her death before she'd ever realized that choices really did matter.


**Title:** Anti-Pleasure Dissertation  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Pairing: **Amanda Young/Detective Kerry, Amanda/John  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the SAW series.  
**Summary:** People don't change, she didn't believe in all of that bullshit.

-----------------------

_Anger, pure rage fueled by the mere emotion of jealousy. God, it could kill...it could just...kill._

A gun raised midway up into the air, as Amanda Young stretched out her arm, part way, bending at the elbow. She didn't want Lynn to live, she didn't deserve to. Not by Amanda's standards. But, her head hangs in dissapointment, the hair falling infront of her face...hiding her away. She bit down on her bottom lip, tucking the plump flesh between her teeth, holding it prisoner.

_Choices, choices, thats always what John was about. But what good were choices anyways? It never really panned out._

Amanda didn't care about choices, not if others didn't deserve it. People like Lynn. John was bright, she knew that. Her idol could be blinded though...because people didn't change. They never really will. Her lip would just curl at the thought that at one point she had believed that bullshit.

Even she hadn't completely changed, not really. She wanted to, she really had. She worked hard, trying to piece her life back together, but each time she tried, some part of her fell back out of place. It was a struggle, to smile and to listen to John's words as if she believed every single thing he said. Sometime when he decided that she wouldn't be his only...apprentice...thats when it went to hell. Everything had changed then, as she went back into a downward spiral.

She deserved his trust, didn't she? She fucking worked hard enough for it. A blade every other day would slide against the skin of her legs, ripping herself open. The air would hit each fresh slice, and she'd take a sharp inhale. It was all worth it, to feel again. She wanted to keep on feeling. Pain felt so fucking good. Perhaps, those who didn't deserve life, by her standards, maybe they'd learn to enjoy it too.

She remebered hanging Detective Kerry up upon her specially made trap. Her most beautiful invention yet. Hard work went into it. Hard fucking work, and John would never have the strength to see it. Kerry didn't deserve shit from her, and Amanda would never give life to her. Her slim fingers traced Kerry's left arm slowly, up and down scraping ever so often with a fingernail. The simple touch of life and death, god, it made the younger dark haired woman shudder with delight at having such a power. And here, her victim lay limp and barely breathing, not yet awake. She would allow her hand to travel to trace the nape of the other woman's neck, and then she'd roam a little more. Her fingers hovering around Kerry's taut stomach. With a curl of the lips, Amanda allowed herself to kiss along Kerry's jaw before stepping out into the shadows, to quietly watch the woman's ribs be torn from the inside out. For once, she felt like she had the power. Only, she never really had it.

_"Think about our dreams...think about tomorrow..."_

It was all just a bunch of mumbling, some low murmurs Amanda could no longer decipher as John looked at her, talking to her in a language that had at one point been so familiar. The gun was in her hand, the choice was hers...just as before back when she had been in the chair with a monster trap attatched to jaw. She wanted to lower her tensed arm, but she couldn't allow that. Her trigger finger flexed, and as John spoke, she closed her eyes--it was too much---she didn't fucking **deserve** to live. Making her her final decision in a split second, she pulled---.

In a second she lifted her head, watching as her target was hit in the back, square in the back---the perfect place. Lynn's limp body falling into some bulky man's arms, in that cheesey movie like way--if the scene playing out wasn't so dark and devasted. Before a smile could even grace her face a sudden pain jolted through her and her ears popped with a giant gun shot sound.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The room began spinning, as she lunged to the side, a wound now apparent on her neck. She was going die, she was in the same place as all the others that had once been at her mercy. She clasped onto her neck in a failed attempt to stop the blood from gushing.

John spoke, told all that had happen. She was the test, a second test and this time she had failed. Gasping, sputtering, Amanda felt her body sinking, falling to the floor slowly as her blood soaked hands clawed weakly on the ground.

_Choices were made, it was always about choices...always had been. Fuck, the irony of it all was strangling her, cutting off her oxygen. It took a bullet hole and her death before she ever realized that choices really did matter. _


End file.
